An Athlete Got Her Period During a Race and Responded to Critics With a Powerful Message

“Not the most flattering photo of Emma, surely they can crop it a little better,” commented Xavier Coppock on a post where the athlete is shown finishing a race with a bloodstained one-piece swimsuit. It was at that precise moment that a long debate ensued.

https://brightside.me/articles/an-athlete-got-her-period-during-a-race-and-responded-to-critics-with-a-powerful-message-813791/?utm_source=5_minute_crafts_usa_fb&utm_medium=square_cards&utm_campaign=1st_comment_links&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR0IswMr_B2AyGOomWLESHmxGHWzfvgAYMExKZBtiyJMavxhVkPOMNgPxHc_aem_AZZHgjRAkqt1De4XxAAgtiLGA6aJPZg0m3x72S-zy93fq-gSUZHAsAPtsG-VbU-VWVlj0fjO1QNHkSRjgpsMMWS0

Emma Pallant-Browne is a British athlete who competes in triathlon, duathlon, and aquathlon events. Among her latest achievements, she won a silver medal at the 2022 World Long Distance Triathlon Championships. In the prestigious Ironman 70.3 competition, she won 2 medals (silver in 2017 and bronze in 2022) and a gold medal at the European Championship in the same year.

In her latest multi-sport challenge, Emma finished fourth. The PTO Tour European Open in Ibiza was held just days after she won the Duathlon World Championship.

https://brightside.me/articles/an-athlete-got-her-period-during-a-race-and-responded-to-critics-with-a-powerful-message-813791/?utm_source=5_minute_crafts_usa_fb&utm_medium=square_cards&utm_campaign=1st_comment_links&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR0IswMr_B2AyGOomWLESHmxGHWzfvgAYMExKZBtiyJMavxhVkPOMNgPxHc_aem_AZZHgjRAkqt1De4XxAAgtiLGA6aJPZg0m3x72S-zy93fq-gSUZHAsAPtsG-VbU-VWVlj0fjO1QNHkSRjgpsMMWS0

On the other hand, Xavier Coppock is another triathlete who decided to comment on a photo of Emma that had been published on the official profile of the competition that took place in Spain. Among the images, she is shown running with a red stain on her swimsuit due to her period.

Although we believe that the athlete’s comment was not made with ill intentions, his words caused a stir online. For her part, Emma was quick to respond. In the same forum, she tagged him and dedicated a few lines to him.

5 days later, the athlete uploaded the same photo to her profile. In the description, she sent an important message. “Celebrating the amazing women in sport and the equally amazing men who champion them. Humbled by the number of messages I’ve had from both men and women about the unglamorous reality of racing on your period,” she began.

In the post, she explained the factors that contributed to this situation. Her light pink outfit was chosen so as not to attract the sun’s rays, and she rolled over her bike, making the stain more visible. She squirted water at the hydration stations, but it failed to remove the stain.

https://www.instagram.com/p/Csoa5cJMuIL/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=d30d56d3-7650-4905-8639-26ef57bdf82a

“This is a women’s sport and the more barriers we can break, the better. After a long career, you end up with a photo like this, but the idea of editing it means there is something wrong with it. I share it because there’s really nothing wrong with it, it’s a natural thing,” she said.

“So if you have a photo like this, save it, cherish it, and remember how you performed on a tough day because one day you might just be able to help someone else with it,” she concluded in her powerful message.

The original post was deleted, but we still have Emma’s, which she posted on her profile. This athlete gave us a lot to talk about — she managed to turn a small comment into an empowering message regarding menstruation. It gave us pause and made us think about the natural things we should stop turning into taboos.

Preview photo credit em_pallant / Instagramprofessionaltriathletesorg / Instagram

A BOY WAS SELLING HIS TOYS — THEN THE COMMUNITY STEPPED IN.

The morning air was crisp with the promise of a new day. George and I, bundled in our warmest coats, were on our usual walk, enjoying the quiet of our suburban street. The sun, a shy sliver peeking through the clouds, cast long shadows across the lawns. As we passed apartment building number 7, something caught my eye.

A small figure huddled beside a makeshift table, a handwritten sign propped against a stack of toys. Curiosity piqued, I approached the boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old, his face a mixture of determination and sadness.

“What are you doing?” I asked gently.

The boy, with eyes the color of a stormy sea, looked up at me. “Selling my toys,” he said, his voice small but resolute. “To help my dog.”

My heart sank. “Your dog?” I asked, confused.

He nodded, his lip trembling slightly. “My parents… they can’t afford to keep him anymore. They might have to take him to the shelter.”

The words hung heavy in the air. This child, barely out of toddlerhood, was facing a hardship that no child should ever have to bear. George, ever the pragmatist, gently inquired about the prices of the toys. They were ridiculously low, a testament to the boy’s desperation.

We couldn’t just walk away. We “bought” a few of his toys, though we had no intention of keeping them. Instead, we returned home with a renewed sense of purpose. We started knocking on doors, sharing the boy’s story with our neighbors. The response was immediate and overwhelming.

Mrs. Garibaldi, the elderly woman who always had a jar of cookies on her windowsill, donated a generous sum, her eyes brimming with tears. Mr. Thompson, the gruff gardener with a soft spot for animals, offered to mow the family’s lawn for the next month. Children, their faces alight with concern, emptied their piggy banks, their contributions ranging from a few coins to a dollar bill clutched tightly in their small hands.

News of the boy’s plight spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. Within hours, a small “fund” for the dog’s care had materialized. We dropped off the contributions that evening, a small bag overflowing with cash and good wishes.

The boy’s face, when he saw the money, was a picture of disbelief. His eyes widened, then welled up with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.” His parents, initially hesitant, were overcome with gratitude.

As we walked away, a sense of warmth filled my heart. It was a reminder that even in the face of adversity, the human spirit could shine through. The simple act of kindness, of reaching out to a neighbor in need, had created a ripple effect of compassion and support.

That evening, as I tucked my own children into bed, I told them about the little boy and his dog. I explained that sometimes, even the smallest acts of kindness could make a big difference. “Remember,” I said, “we’re all connected. We’re all part of a community, and we need to look out for each other.”

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of birdsong and the gentle patter of rain. The memory of the boy’s grateful smile warmed my heart. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope, and that the kindness of strangers can truly make a difference.

That day, I went about my business with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to be more mindful of the needs of those around me. The world, I realized, was full of small acts of heroism, waiting to be discovered. And in the quiet moments, I would remember the little boy and his dog, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and the unwavering kindness of the human spirit.

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